


Way Too Late For Dignity (It's Time For Apologies)

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Big Time Move, Blow Jobs, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendall apologizes to the guys during Big Time Move. On his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Way Too Late For Dignity (It's Time For Apologies)

**Author's Note:**

> Ages and ages and ages ago, Rachel asked me for a fic during Big Time Move where Kendall apologizes to the guys on his knees. I am the slowest writer in all of ever, so this is for you, girly. jblostfan16 did the super quick beta of awesome, and she therefore owns my heart.

_****_

_“…Carlos did say he always wanted a place overlooking the park.”_

  


***

  
Well.  
  
That wasn’t so hard.  
  
Kendall begins scampering off, pleased that he’s got Logan’s assurance that all it will take to end this whole debacle is a simple _sorry_ from James and Carlos.  
  
“Kendall, wait.”  
  
He pauses mid-step, his foot hovering over a crack in the pavement. Kendall really doesn’t want to turn around. He really, really doesn’t. Nothing good ever comes from waiting. Slowly, like a music box figurine, he spins. Logan’s standing there, arms crossed, face smug. He says, “Where’s the rest of my apology?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Talk is cheap,” Logan intones. “And you kneed me in the ribs on that last tackle. It _hurt_.”  
  
Kendall takes in Logan’s pout, the quaver of his lower lip, the needy eyes. “…want me to rub some icy hot on it?”  
  
“I want you to make me feel better.”  
  
“How am I supposed to do that?”  
  
“Get creative. Preferably on your knees.” Logan gives him eyes that can only be interpreted as suggestive. But Kendall has this thing where when he’s completely focused on one plan it’s hard for him to keep track of sudden changes in topics. In his mind, he’s already off finding James. So. He blinks. “I don’t- what are you talking about?”  
  
“I’m talking about how Camille and I have been broken up for close to three months and I’m still kind of really mad at you and my ribs hurt, and I want you to blow me.”  
  
Kendall lets those words sink in. “I’m a boy.”  
  
“I’d noticed.”  
  
“You’re not serious,” Kendall decides, because of all the friends to spring a surprise blowjob request on him, Logan would have been his last guess.  
  
Except, okay, Logan is dead serious. Kendall can tell by the tightness around his eyes and the thin line of his lips. That is Logan Mitchell’s look of _resolve_. It’s actually a little terrifying, because Kendall can count on his hands how many times he’s seen it in his life. Indecision is where Logan lives, not here, not in Confidentville.  
  
Logan says, “You don’t want to?”  
  
What Kendall _wants_ is to go find Carlos and James. He _wants_ to have all his friends back in the same room, playing the best video game on earth. If getting up close and intimate with Logan’s dick will make that happen? Whatever.  
  
“What do I do?” Kendall asks, uncertain.  
  
Logan watches him, eyes dark. “You’ll really-“  
  
“Yeah,” he replies, trying to keep the reluctance from his voice. Sucking cock cannot actually be that difficult. “You’re right. I owe you an apology.”  
  
Logan may be all Mr. Big Decision Maker now, but Kendall is the real deal. He doesn’t go back once his mind is made up. Logan flushes. “Uh. We should- cabana?”  
  
Privacy. Privacy is good.  
  
He follows Logan through the heavy green curtains of the cabana, fastening them closed with fingers that move with more surety than he feels. Kendall’s heartbeat is thunder in his skull, drowning out all his common sense. He faces Logan, squaring his shoulders. “Where do you want to do this?”  
  
Logan’s eyes fall on the table, the Astroturf, and finally, the two chairs. He says, “Do you want me to sit or stand?”  
  
Kendall shoves a hand through his hair. “It’s up to you, Loginator. This was your idea.”  
  
The words sound accusatory and a little mean. Logan shies away from them.  
  
“You look nervous. Are you nervous? Maybe this was a bad idea,” he begins babbling, shoving them squarely back into their assigned friendship roles.  
  
Kendall yanks at his roots and then says, “I didn’t mean it like that. Wherever you’re most, uh, comfortable.”  
  
Logan goes to sit down, movements mechanical. There is something thick in the air that tastes like jittery nerves and stale chlorine. Kendall snags the sleeve of his cardigan, fingers circling his wrist. “Wait.”  
  
Logan’s footsteps falter, his shoulders slouching up near his ears, a puppy about to be reprimanded. Kendall does not wait for Logan to turn the full force of his big brown eyes on him. He tugs, yanks, pulls Logan so that he’s stumbling back into Kendall’s arms with an _oof_. Kendall breathes against Logan’s ear, “Did I mention I’m sorry?”  
  
He nips the lobe, licks out at the skin and teases it between his teeth. Logan slumps back against him. “Are you really?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, of course.” Kendall spins Logan to face him, his free hand steady on Logan’s hip. He can feel his friend’s pulse jump beneath his fingertips, and he smiles, hopefully less meekly than he feels. No going back now.  
  
Kendall drops to his knees.  
  
Not that he’s ever imagined himself giving blowjobs, but if he had, he probably wouldn’t have visualized kneeling for someone wearing freshly ironed slacks. He tugs down the zipper on Logan’s pants, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous this is. Solemn is less hard to do when he pulls Logan free from his boxers, and Logan gulps, air and spit and _loud_.  
  
He is real and solid in Kendall’s hand, terrifying and exciting all at once.  
  
Kendall is tentative about it at first, licking out at Logan’s dick like a kitten. He’s never messed around with a guy before, but he knows what he likes, and he mostly just imitates what girls have done to him. The soft skin of Logan’s cock gives way, gradually, to a familiar hardness as Logan grows and lengthens. Kendall fits his lips around the tip and tries taking it in. It’s not easy, exactly, but he thinks he’s doing it correctly, because Logan smoothes his hands through Kendall’s hair, tugging at the roots. He is thick and salty in Kendall’s mouth, sun-warmed from lounging poolside with his history textbook.  
  
Kendall lathes his tongue against him, attentively trying to reach every inch of skin he can. He slides his lips up the foreign weight, skin silky-soft. On the downturn, he sucks Logan in, swallows him down until he is bumping up against the back of Kendall’s throat.  
  
All the while, Logan watches. He’s completely visual; he likes the tease, he likes the show. So Kendall tries to take him deeper, and Logan mutters something low and guttural, this sound that spikes through Kendall’s stomach and makes his own dick twitch. He makes to palm his hand over himself, but Logan says, “Nuh uh,” a hand cupped under Kendall’s chin. And fuck, that’s hot, that assertiveness from _Logan_ , of all people. Kendall didn’t actually know sexy was something Logan was capable of, until now, but it is.  
  
He sucks Logan in deeper, trying to please, but his lack of skill and experience is apparently getting to be too much. Logan bunches his fingers tight in Kendall’s hair, holds his head still while he realigns his dick, angling to better fuck Kendall’s mouth. Kendall is so completely out of his element here. He can only kneel there and watch while Logan’s hips lose their rhythm, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth drops open, bitten red, hot as fuck. If Kendall was allowed to touch his own dick, he would come, right there on the poolside astroturf.  
  
As it is, he whimpers while Logan abuses the stretch of his lips, whines at the scrape of his own jeans against his erection, and all it seems to do is make Logan hotter for it. His hips stutter forward once, twice, and then he makes a high, thin noise of his own and floods Kendall’s mouth, salty hot and trickling down the corners of his lips.  
  
Kendall manages to swallow it down, popping off Logan’s dick with a wince. The corners of his mouth feel raw. He warns, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”  
  
Logan grins, blissed out and sated, slumping down in a lounge chair. “Sure. Whatever you say, el Capitan.”

  


_***_

_“…nobody knows where James…is…”_

***

  
Carlos is living in a cardboard box and being _stubborn_.  
  
Shockingly stubborn for a kid who’s attention span is usually about five seconds. Kendall squares his shoulders, prepared to go chase after James and his…motor…scooter…thing, when the window to Carlos’s house pops back open. “Wait, Logan forgave _you_? What did you do?”  
  
“What do you mean, what did I do? I said sorry.” Kendall shoves his hands in his pockets and tries very hard not to look like he’s lying.  
  
“Nuh uh,” Carlos shakes his head, a cookie half stuffed in his mouth. “You were like, this close to kneeing Logan in the balls instead of the stomach. He wouldn’t just forgive you for that. So what did you give him that you’re not giving me?”  
  
“Nothing. Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
Carlos’s lower lip trembles. “You like Logan better than me.”  
  
“Untrue.”  
  
“S’not,” Carlos sniffles, gulping down the rest of the cookie like a pelican with a fish. He barely even pauses to swallow, big, doe eyes pressing guilt against Kendall’s chest. “Thought we were friends, Kendall.”  
  
Fucking seriously? “Fine. You want to see what I did for Logan?”  
  
Carlos nods eagerly, cookie crumbs all over his chin.  
  
Kendall sighs. “Let me in.”  
  
“What’s the password?”  
  
“The pa- Carlos, let me in, damn it.”  
  
Carlos crosses his arms, leaning against cardboard. “Password.”  
  
Kendall rolls his eyes. “Corndogs,” he says, because that’s the only password Carlos has used since like, first grade for all his secret forts, email accounts, and computer-type-things.  
  
Solemnly, Carlos announces, “Accepted,” and swings back a tiny cardboard door.  
  
It’s a tight fit inside Carlos’s makeshift house. There’s definitely not a lot of standing room, so Kendall goes straight for gold and drops to his knees.  
  
“What are you-?” Carlos’s voice has turned uncertain, doubt creeping the corners of his mouth downward. At least, Kendall thinks he’s beginning to frown. There’s also not a lot of light in here. But the grass is kinder on Kendall’s knees than the concrete in Logan’s cabana.  
  
He assures him, “Relax, Carlos. I’ll take care of you.”  
  
He presses the pads of his fingers against the front of Carlos’s pants. Carlos squeaks, completely undignified, completely Carlos. He’s at half mast, already marginally turned on by – what, exactly? Kendall on his knees and licking his lips? Sometimes Kendall forgets how little experience Carlos has.  
  
“This is what you did for Logan?”  
  
“Logan asked for it,” Kendall explains absently, his full attention on the gradual stiffening of Carlos’s cock beneath his fingers. He’s bigger than Kendall thought he would be, or would’ve thought, if Kendall had ever actually entertained ideas about Carlos’s dick. He glances up at Carlos through his eyelashes, wondering if his mouth is still bright red from Logan. It must be, because Carlos is giving him his full attention, rapt, and whimpers a little when Kendall runs his tongue against his lower lip. “You sure this is what you want?”  
  
Carlos nods so hard Kendall is scared his head might snap off the stem of his neck. Voice all husky and low, he says, “Do it.”  
  
Kendall already is, pulling down the zipper of his pants. He knew he wouldn’t say no; it’s part of what he likes best about Carlos. The kid only sees possibilities.  
  
Especially if his sorely neglected boy parts are in any way involved.  
  
Kendall thumbs open the button of his jeans and then does this little dance, fumbling Carlos’s cock through the opening in his boxers. He strokes down once, twice, testing, and at first Carlos is stock still, the tremble in his thighs and his hands the only indication that he’s still alive. He is timid in a way that he’s never been around Kendall, not since kindergarten and the day they first met.  
  
Kendall has to break the tension. “Carlos, why do your pants smell like corndogs?”  
  
“Never mind that.”  
  
Carlos’s dick bumps against Kendall’s lips, smearing wet across his skin. His precum is sharp against Kendall’s tongue, but less bitter than Logan’s, who has got an unhealthy coffee addiction working against him.  
  
“Just do what you promised.” There is a whiny edge to his voice that belies how desperate he is. Kendall doesn’t want to let him down. He takes Carlos in his mouth slow, stroking his thumbs in soothing circles along the soft ridges of Carlos’s hipbones, a comforting hum on his lips. Carlos jerks and bucks, mouth dropping open.  
  
“Oh,” he breathes, shaky. “Kendall, can you do that ag-“  
  
He doesn’t even need to ask. The cardboard box is stifling around them, Carlos’s skin springing up a sheen of sweat, and Kendall is painfully aware that they’re even more exposed here than he and Logan were in the cabana. He’d kind of like to work Carlos through this, slow, to make sure that his first blowjob is something he always remembers. But the way he figures, if this apology thing works out the way he wants it to, he’ll have more shots at this.  
  
Besides, Carlos isn’t actually acting like this is his first rodeo anymore. Everyone thinks that Carlos is such a sweet, sweet boy, but with Kendall’s lips wrapped around him he’s muttering words that would make a sailor blush, the act almost unconscious, and every sharp expletive works up under Kendall’s skin.  
  
He’s still sweet about some things, trying not to pull too tightly on Kendall’s hair, trying not to rough up the plush red of his lips by fucking in too far, but the longer they go, the more he seems to realize who exactly he’s got on his knees.  
  
Kendall can handle rough-and-tumble, overeager, and that’s pretty much Carlos’s zone. He is certainly eager once he figures that out, pumping into Kendall’s mouth almost ruthlessly while Kendall tries to catch up. And Kendall doesn’t even resent him for the ache in his jaw, because he gets it, that’s who Carlos is. He just wants to feel it.  
  
Carlos wants to feel everything.  
  
He comes with a whimper, pupils blown wide open and dark. Kendall can taste him all the way down in his stomach.  
  
Carlos slumps back against the cardboard box, nearly unseating the whole thing and exposing them both to the whole of Palmwoods Park, but Kendall manages to catch at his pants, rucked down around his thighs. He pulls Carlos to his knees and saves the little cover the have, while Carlos nuzzles into the skin that joins Kendall’s shoulders and neck.  
  
“Are you going to go apologize to James now?” he asks, and fuck, yeah, no, _James_. That is not happening.  
  
“Not like this,” Kendall replies, kissing the shell of Carlos’s ear.  
  
Carlos glances up sharply, pupils still huge with lust. “But that wouldn’t be fair.”  
  
“Look, it’s fine.” Kendall butts their foreheads together, the briefest touch. “All James needs is a simple apology.”  
  
“He still needs to apologize to me, too,” Carlos insists.  
  
“Yeah, I know, okay.” Kendall pats his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it.”

  


_***_

_“…and don’t say you’ll only do it if Logan apologizes to you first.”_

***

  
A simple apology, ha.  
  
Kendall forgot the golden rule; nothing with James is ever simple. James is trouble with a capital T, and he’s always been trouble; mostly that’s what makes him so great to be around. But right now Kendall stares at the door to…to…some senior citizen’s apartment and wonders what the fuck he’s supposed to do.  
  
Then it clicks back open.  
  
“Why’s your mouth all red?” James asks, like he already knows, and god, he probably does. “Is that from all the _apologizing_ you’ve been doing?”  
  
“Maybe,” Kendall hedges, voice rough from all the abuse his throat’s been taking.  
  
“Aren’t you going to apologize to me?” he inquires mildly, but there is a hard edge to his grin that makes Kendall think he knows exactly what he’s asking for.  
  
The problem with James is that he’s James. One day he was this doughy little kid with a sweet smile and a nasty streak, Kendall’s go-to BFF when he wanted to really make someone hurt on the ice. Then he turned around and James was prince charming, all hair and really fucking fantastic abs.  
  
Puberty is a really capricious bitch.  
  
“If that’s what you want,” Kendall says carefully.  
  
James drags Kendall into the apartment by the collar of his flannel shirt. He manhandles Kendall right up to the couch, which smells vaguely of cat, and presses his fingertips to Kendall’s lips. “You have a great mouth. So put it on my dick already.”  
  
It’s not like Kendall’s gagging for James’s dick, or anything, but he falls to his knees on command all the same. James plops down onto the couch cushions, a lot more composed about the whole thing than Logan and Carlos were, experienced with girls and boys alike. He undoes the front of his own freaking khakis- khakis, for fuck’s sake – because James appreciates good showmanship, but he also appreciates getting exactly what he wants.  
  
“You ready? Make me come,” James commands, curling his fingers against Kendall’s cheekbone.  
  
Kendall frowns. “If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to gag you.”  
  
James brightens. “I’ve got an ascot.”  
  
“I don’t know what that means. No, no, don’t explain,” Kendall says when James’s mouth drops open. He stares at the dark patch of hair around James’s dick, and who goes commando under khakis anyway? “If you do I’ll lose my nerve.”  
  
“You? James looks entirely unimpressed. “I mean, I know I’m intimidating. And gorgeous. And ridiculously experienced-“  
  
Kendall surges forward and bites his inner thigh, and the word _experienced_ tapers off into a breathy moan.  
  
“Are we doing this or not?” Kendall growls against his skin, and James beams.  
  
“Fuck, yes, c’mon.”  
  
James is loud and totally unabashed when Kendall swallows down his cock. But he is also full of quiet reassurance- from the way he cups his hands soft around the back of Kendall’s head, guiding him, to the smug smirk that drapes itself lazily across James’s face- and that annoys the hell out of Kendall. He is not going to let James write him off as an easy, complacent lay.  
  
He lets James fuck into his mouth a few more times, figuring out the pace that James likes. The second he thinks he’s got it down, Kendall becomes a very, very active participant. He does whatever he can to make James fall to pieces. Kendall pins his hands to the couch, holding James down in a way James very obviously isn’t used to. He goes as deep as he can, licks back on the upturn, suckles at the tip of James’s dick before starting all over again. When James urges him, “Faster,” Kendall pops off and informs him that the gag is still an option.  
  
James laughs, breath half caught in his lungs, and it sounds rougher than anything Kendall has ever heard from him. His tongue darts over the slit of James’s cock, and James’s knees spread wider, his hips arcing up. He says, “Kendall, please,” and it’s not quite begging, not exactly, but it’s more than anyone else usually gets from James Diamond.  
  
The corners of Kendall’s lips are stretched uncomfortably raw, and by the end of this day he thinks no one will mistake what it is he’s been doing all afternoon. He digs his fingers into the skin and tendons of James’s wrist and sucks him back down, holding the weight of him in his mouth just to feel the pulse of his blood beneath skin.  
  
James is so fucking hard for him.  
  
Kendall drags his tongue across the underside of James’s shaft, hollowing his cheeks and staring up at James through the thin layer of his eyelashes. He must look absolutely obscene, because James is staring at him with the kind of half-lidded bedroom eyes he usually reserves for his hottest dates, this muscle in his neck strained tight as he searches for more friction. Kendall can do that, probably, even though it’s a little awkward holding James’s wrists still while trying to work him solely with his mouth.  
  
Whatever, he likes a challenge. He speeds it up, tries more suction, less tongue, humming his approval when James actually starts to squirm. His skin is soft and slick with precum and saliva, and he curves to the left in Kendall’s mouth, bumping up against his cheek and his throat in turn. He doesn’t actually announce when he’s going to come, but his body goes tense, knees closing back up to squeeze at Kendall’s shoulders, and he lets go with a shout that’s timed perfectly with the deluge of hot and bitter in Kendall’s mouth. Kendall can feel the fine tremors that wrack down James’s body, maybe curling his toes in those ergonomic, sensible walking shoes he stole, and maybe Kendall would like to repeat this whole thing naked one day.  
  
Especially because he’s basically had a raging boner of his own since, uh, Logan, and it would be nice if someone tried to suck his dick already.  
  
“Okay, we are so fucking doing that again,” James tells him, yanking his hands free and trapping one at the base of Kendall’s neck. “It’s going to be so much fun.”  
  
“Sure, right,” Kendall replies, rubbing up a little against the front of the couch.  
  
James snorts. “Need help with that?”  
  
“For real?”  
  
“Sure. Right after you get that apology from Logan.”  
  
Fuuuuuuck. 


End file.
